


girls like girls (not boys)

by nashiro



Series: nehaelin aus [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, take a wild guess about who's what, tattoo shop & biker gang au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7204985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nashiro/pseuds/nashiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aedion, you fuck. Where the hell did you go?”</p><p>Nehemia clears her throat, and says mildly, “I’m not Aedion, but I’ll relay to him that he’s a fuck when he wakes up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	girls like girls (not boys)

**Author's Note:**

> has nobody thought of nehemia/celaena yet?? no??? welcome to nehaena hell
> 
> thanks to kiara and dakota for kicking my ass into gear
> 
> title is from hayley kiyoko's "girls like girls" except i added (not boys) onto the end

“I hear that,” this guy begins—Nehemia’s not sure what his name is—as he puts his arm on the counter and leans forward, “your name is Nehemia Ytger.”

She doesn’t sigh. She’s past that stage, but she wants to. “Yes,” she says patiently. “My name is Nehemia Ytger. Can I interest you in a tattoo?”

“I would be very interested,” he says, pointedly looking down for a few seconds, then looking up. He blinks blearily at her. Nehemia can smell the alcohol on his breath as he says, “Of your name on my ass.”

“I have a boyfriend,” she says, and for good measure, adds, “and his name is on my ass.” 

He stares at her.

Nehemia’s dealt with enough drunk men to expect something along the lines of, “Let me change it," when his head thuds against the counter, his body sagging. She gives it a count of twenty before she moves around the counter, pulling the guy away from the counter and settling him against the floor.

It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time, considering she’s not in the habit of banging the heads of her potential customers against things. And this guy is muscular, which is easy enough to tell—if not from how bulky he is, then from the muscles beneath his leather jacket. She crouches down next to him, counting to thirty.

And then forty, until a minute passes and he still hasn’t woken up.

Damn.

She carefully reaches over, sticking her hand in one of his jacket pockets and searching for a phone. If it has a passcode, then she can call it a day. There’s just keys in that pocket, and she’s not shoving her hands into the pockets of his pants. Nope. That's for somebody else who isn't named _Nehemia Ytger_.

She double-checks, then rummages around in his other jacket pocket. There’s a phone, and it’s similar enough to her own that she finds out how to turn it on, feeling around the sides for a button.

The screen lights up, and there’s a picture of him, a silver-haired man, a blonde girl, and a black-haired girl. He looks similar enough to the blonde girl, but it isn’t Nehemia’s business in the first place, so she swipes across the screen, frowning at how many apps the guy has.

… Who even _plays_ Angry Birds nowadays?

Nehemia takes a deep breath, moving to sit beside the guy as she finds contacts.

Alright, his name is Aedion Ashryver. Weird, but… alright. She doesn't have any room to judge, really. Nehemia’s not even sure what to do at this point, especially all of his contacts are a bunch of emojis. At least there’s pictures. She turns his phone on and off a few times, comparing the pictures, picking the contact with a picture of the blonde-haired girl, and dials the number.

And waits.

She doesn’t wait very long.

“Aedion, you _fuck_. Where the _hell_ did you go?”

Nehemia clears her throat, and says mildly, “I’m not Aedion, but I’ll relay to him that he’s a fuck when he wakes up.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but then the person on the other side says, “Oh. I’m Celaena, Aedion’s cousin. Did he get into a fight?”

“No,” Nehemia responds, wondering what kind of person she’s sitting next to. “He came to my tattoo parlor and passed out.”  
  
“Did you knock him out?”  
  
Nehemia frowns. “No. He was talking to me and passed out.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Nehemia Ytger, by the way,” she offers. “I’m at—”

“Oh! You’re Nehemia? Rowan’s always talking about the tattoos you’ve done for him,” Celaena says energetically. “We’ll be there soon to pick him up. Is his bike out there? Can you check?”

“Of course,” Nehemia says, getting up. She peers out the window, looking up and down the block. “I think so. There’s only one bike here.”

“Great!” Celaena covers the phone, saying something to somebody else, before she says, “Sorry about that. Did Aedion say anything rude to you?”

Nehemia finds herself shaking her head, even though there’s nobody to witness it. “He wanted my name tattooed on his ass, but that was about it. I wouldn’t count that as rude, no.”

Celaena snorts.

Nehemia smiles. (Just a tiny bit. She doesn’t do any big smiling, not at all.)

“Oh, wow. I’m so sorry,” Celaena says, but her tone says she’s definitely _not_. Nehemia doesn’t blame her. “We’ll be there soon. Just… don’t punch him if he wakes up and says something.”

“Alright,” Nehemia says, before the line dies off. She looks at Aedion, then at his phone, and sighs. She sits down next to him, turning on the camera, and throws up a peace-sign before taking a picture.

Nehemia gives the selfie a long look, contemplating the angle. She takes two more before she’s finally satisfied, playing with the filters for a few minutes. She taps ‘Done’ and moves Aedion’s arm, putting his phone in his pocket. Now, for the hard part: moving him onto a chair to make it look like she cares.

Which, she does, but she just met him. And he was trying to get her name tattooed on his ass. That’d be flattering if Nehemia wasn’t much more interested in women.

She moves into a half-squat, half-crouch, kind-of-sitting position—that’s extremely uncomfortable, why—and pulls Aedion’s arm over her shoulder. She silently counts to three, then four, and when it’s sixteen, Nehemia pulls him up.

She doesn’t get anywhere, instead deciding to pull Aedion away from the counter and try a frontal approach. (With no small amount of effort, thank you very much.)

“Wh _aaaaa_ —” Aedion slurs, eyes blinking open to stare at the floor.

“You’re awake, thank _God_ ,” Nehemia breathes. Maybe she won’t have to wrestle him into a chair now—

Aedion’s eyes close. She hopes he’s blinking for a really long time, and then he takes in a breath and _snores_. Nehemia gives up, falling onto her rear with a huff. Aedion’s head comes down to lay on her thigh, and he’s _still_ snoring. She wonders what's become of her life.

Nehemia breathes deeply, scrubbing at her face. She blandly thinks that every choice in her life has led up to this, which is kind of weird. Maybe, if she hadn’t decided to buy this shop and open up her business, then she wouldn’t be stuck with a stranger asleep in her tattoo shop.

Damn.

The only up-side is that Celaena sounds cute. She's probably straight, too, which is never a good thing in Nehemia's opinion. Maybe she's willing be gal pals—hoes before bros, sisters from different misters, all of that jazz.

She grabs Aedion’s jacket, giving the chairs in the corner a wistful look, before she moves into a non-sitting position and _pulls_. It somehow results in a disaster and Nehemia stubbing her toe against the floor, face-down, with Aedion on top of her. This is not the ideal situation, especially since he's on her just enough to give her room to breathe and leave her, quite literally, trapped. She takes a deep breath—or, as much as she can with probably-more-than-200 pounds of mass crushing her—and lets it all out. Predictably, it’s harder to take another breath.

She powers through, though. Celaena should be here soon, and then she can get Aedion off of her and return to her usual lifestyle. Perfect.

For a moment, Nehemia wishes she could grab Aedion’s phone and take more selfies, but it’s currently digging into her spine, along with something that feels like keys.

Then again, she’d probably put it back, since Nehemia’s not that kind of person. She feels guilty enough just taking selfies and editing them to look good. She's completely, utterly grateful that the door opens a moment later, bringing two pairs of boots into view.

“Hell— _oh my God_ , _Rowan_ , get Aedion off of her.”

Nehemia breathes a sigh of relief when Aedion’s lifted off of her. She takes a few breaths to savor the sensation before getting up, dusting herself off. She looks at the blonde woman, smiling tentatively. “You’re… Celaena?”

She nods. “I’m Celaena Sardothien,” she says, holding her hand out. Nehemia takes it and shakes her hand.

“Nehemia Ytger.” She glances to a silver-haired man holding Aedion up, her hand dropping down to her side. He looks familiar, if vaguely—

“That’s Rowan,” Celaena says helpfully.

Nehemia nods, smiling. She's given him a few tattoos, her favorite being the one that curls around his bicep. “I recall. No issues with any of the ink?”

He shakes his head, jostling Aedion. “None at all. I’m sure you want to get us out of your hair…”

“I wouldn’t mind chatting, but you probably have other things to do, right?” Nehemia asks, smiling. She kind of does want them out of her hair, since it’s past closing time.

“Get Aedion home and go to sleep,” Celaena says. “Can I get your number?” Nehemia blinks, because _is she flirting_ — “To make up for the trouble Aedion’s caused,” she tacks on, and _no_ , of course she wouldn’t be flirting.  _Damn_.

“Of course,” Nehemia says. “May I see your phone?”

Celaena smiles radiantly, pulling her phone out. She gives it to Nehemia after a moment, already on the new contact page. Nehemia includes her work and personal phone number. (Just in case.)

“There you go. Feel free to call me anytime, especially if you’d like a tattoo,” Nehemia says, winking.

Celaena returns the wink, grinning. “Thanks, Nehemia. We’ll be leaving now, if that’s all?”

“Unless you’d like to wait until Aedion wakes up so I may tell him that he’s a fuck, then no,” Nehemia says dryly.

The other woman lets out an amused huff, moving over to hook Aedion’s other arm around her shoulder. “Thanks, Nehemia. See you around.”

Nehemia waves as Rowan and Celaena open the door and leave, dragging Aedion with them. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, flipping the ‘ _OPEN_ ’ sign to ‘ _CLOSED_ ’, and grabs the broom from the back. No sense in doing clean-up tomorrow, even though she's really, really tired. (And she's really, really hoping that Celaena calls her.)

Belatedly, she realizes she might've given the wrong number to Celaena. _Oh, no._

**Author's Note:**

> pls ship this w me
> 
> i BEG of u


End file.
